Stay With Me
by colourmehappy
Summary: She finds serenity in his proximity before her eyes draw slowly shut as her body succumbs, and she slips softly into darkness' welcoming embrace.


Stay With Me

_-She finds serenity in his proximity before her eyes draw slowly shut as her body succumbs, and she slips softly into darkness' welcoming embrace._

I wasn't going to publish this. ever. This is my first contribution to the Castle world. I'm so nervous, i'm sweating...

* * *

She reaches out: her hand a whisper away from the delicate, soft nape of his neck. Extending her fingers, they gently graze the very tips of the short, dark hairs that lay in disarray against the pale of his skin. His reaction is visible and immediate – goose bumps flare under the spot of her barely-there caress, and a small shiver works its way down his spine. She has always liked the way his body unconsciously reacted to her - excitement would flush through her own in return, and sometimes she could not help but smirk at the power she had over him; at the knowledge of how deep his need and love ran. But not this time, she withdrew. Her open hand becomes a tight fist; nails, sharp and long, biting into her palm, break the translucent skin. The sting barely registers, as she fights a sudden pain in her chest: searing, hot, blinding as it tears through her, indiscriminately ripping and slashing her insides, electrifying and igniting her every nerve ending. Her outstretched arm is now curled tight against her. Tears build in her eyes, her vision blurs. She forces down a strangled sob. The agony almost becomes too much.

The warmth rolls off him, inviting. His back still to her, she stumbles closer to seek solace and comfort in the waves that skim and glide over her. The pain is overwhelming now, to the point where she is beginning to numb. She inhales. She finds serenity in his proximity before her eyes draw slowly shut as her body succumbs, and she slips softly into darkness' welcoming embrace.

_I love you. I love you, Kate._

Her eyes flicker open, no longer is she tormented by pain, instead a dull throb resides, just a gentle reminder of how close she came. She skirts the pad of her thumb at its source, as if to soothe it further, before drawing her attention back to the man in front of her.

His broad back blocks her view of the counter in front of him. But she does not need to see the empty bottle to know what he has been doing. The harsh 'clink' of glass on granite; the steady rise and fall of his arm; the unkempt hair; the threadbare t-shirt he is wearing all give him away. He never could hide things very well from her. But then again he probably thought she would never see this, so there was no need for him to cover up, put on an act.

She exhales slowly; she's close enough now that her breath dances across his neck. His body tenses, and becomes still. She makes herself known to him; takes her hand and tenderly draws it through his hair, lets it seep through her fingers before pausing and threading them back through. He releases a sob; heavy with the burdens he carries, it wracks his body, and forces his eyes tight shut.

'Kate?' he chokes out, the insecurity and uncertainty raw in voice.

It is enough to shatter the self-control she promised herself she would have before she came here. Her hand clasped in his hair is not enough: she needs more. She has missed him. These past months have been so lonely, so empty without him. She has been lost, so so lost. The hand is his hair drags slowly downwards, her nails tracing his scalp as they journey. Her delicate hand is now flat against his neck, and her thumb dancing circles against the skin. Her free hand snakes along the contours of his arm, until it comes to rests on top his on the glass he clutches. She is pulled against the side of him, her face level with his, her lips almost grazing his ear. She revels in the touch of him – it makes her feel alive. The warmth of him pressed against her cold of her. It makes her almost regret coming, for now she never wants to leave. But seeing him - so broken, so lost like she has been - makes her grateful that she could not stay away.

'It's okay Rick,' she breathes. 'I promise.'

'Kate,' another choke.

'I'm okay Rick. I'm okay,' she says louder, trying to add conviction to her tone. She really is okay.

'It's killing me,' he whispers, 'not being able to see you every day, to talk to you.'

He turns to face her for the first time since it happened – it feels like an eternity since then. Time has become stifled and heavy - he's been trapped under its weight, being slowly pushed under, one minute at a time. Their eyes connect; orbs shining with unshed tears meet; time stops. It stops pushing him, and for that moment before it becomes too much, he is free; able to breathe.

He averts his eyes, and takes in the rest of her, savouring the sight. It has been too long.

'I've missed you.'

His palms have found either side of her face, and thumbs graze over her cheeks – softly, rhythmically, soothing. A sad smile tugs at his lips, and his eyes dip. He breaths deeply.

'I'm tired Kate. So very tired.'

'Then let's sleep Castle.'

* * *

'Stay with me,' he whispers into her temple. 'Please.'

_Stay with me Kate._

She can feel his soft lips as they form the words, the dampness of his tears, and the rough of his stubble against her skin. She simply nods in response, knowing he is not just talking about tonight. It is not something she can give him, but she cannot bear to walk away. She cannot break his heart by denying him. So she answers with silence.

Just one last night.

He pulls her back tight against his front, and slips a leg between hers – anchoring her into him. He has her now, and he is never letting her go. Their hands clasp together, and she brings them to her lips, pressing them into the back of his hand, and then brings them to nestle at her chest. They are closer now than they have ever been. Her hand atop his, she guides him to the place where she burns in pain. His fingers brush the spot slowly, deliberately. He buries his head in her hair trying to block out the memories, the hurt. He remembers now, not that he ever forgot; God knows he tried to forget.

How close he came to having her, to holding her, to having it all.  
How close she came to surviving.

How close she came to reciprocating his love, to being complete, to having it all.  
How close she came.

He does not want to let go of her. Not yet.  
Not now that he has her so close. Not now that he finally has her.

But he does not have her.  
Never will. His chance gone, snatch from him too early.  
But he will hold onto this moment.

_Always._

* * *

**note** - So if you didn't get it: I killed her. I killed Kate Beckett...  
I wrote this after watching every episode of American Horror Story back-to-back: I was inspired by the idea of those who have passed on still being there; not quite able to move on, and still able to interact and appear as normal. But I think I meandered from this initial idea as I wrote.  
You can either interpret it as Kate-is-a-ghost! or as a desperate, depressed man mourning the loss of the woman he loves; he is haunted by the version of her his imagination masochistically projects.  
S'up to you fellas.  
Anything need clearing up? just ask.  
safesafe. I'm going to hide now, and forget I ever posted this. xx


End file.
